Echoes
by Talicor
Summary: Guardian has told his tale, yet in all its painful beauty... There were some pieces missing. Now. Experience the tale of Guardian like never before... Learn of the man behind the mystery.. The human behind the specter. With Echoes. All shall be revealed... From the legacy of Luke, to the descendants of Leia, Guardian remained, guiding and protecting the lineage of Skywalker.
1. Echoes

_Hello my favorite little readers..._

_I've brought something truly special to the table for you._

_At last... I release the sequel, prequel, and companion piece to_ _**Guardian**_

_Now, step into my newest craftwork in this universe.. Echoes, for your viewing pleasure._

_Enjoy!_

_~Talicor_

* * *

"What _is _this place?" A young man whispers, craning his neck and gazing in awe at the natural cathedral. Towering trees made up the vaulted ceilings, verdant leaves creating a beautiful latticework of greens and yellows above them, for they had just begun to turn with the season.

"Someplace we shouldn't be," A gruff voice supplies, the stocky owner crossing his arms, and nodding his head toward the robed figure in the center of the clearing. "And by the looks of it, we run the risk of disturbing that fellow."

Attention drawn back to his companions, the younger one simply shrugs, feet carrying him closer to the center.

"Zev…" A woman's voice carries softly to his ear, her eyes widening as he continues into the glen, "What are you _doing_?"

_Trying to see if he can help us._ The young spacer thinks, rolling his eyes at Rhya's inquiry.

Pausing in his movements, Zev turns back and holds a finger to his lips, short brown hair barely rippling in the breeze, his dark spacer's outfit a harsh contrast to the cascading light around them. His companions backing down, he returns his attention to the kneeling figure in the center, forever unmoving.

"Hey," the young man begins, voice carrying almost eerily through the quiet as he picked up his pace, feet carrying him across the grassy expanse, and to the cloaked figure's side. "Are you…"

Upon reaching the being, the young spacer falls silent. For now, he can see the sable robes — that had appeared rich from afar — were shriveled with age, color warped by the sun, and edges shredded, from what exactly, Zev could only guess.

_Something isn't right about this…_

Swallowing thickly, he places a bare hand on the covered shoulder, finding it hard, and unforgiving in its stiffness… Like _death_…

Gasping at the thought, the human springs back from the still unmoving form, suppressing a shudder.

"Zev!" Rhya's voice carries over to him through the breeze, laced with concern at his reaction, "What's going on?"

In response, the young man only manages to motion numbly for them to approach.

"Rorsk…" He whispers as they come to his side, voice strained, "Rhya…" Simply shaking his head, words leave him.

The elder spacer quirking his eyebrow, Rorsk kneels down, placing a gloved hand on the frozen figure's shoulder, shaking him gently.

No sooner does his hand shift against the fabric, does the cloak practically disintegrate, exposing the form beneath. Long warped by the elements, once smooth and supple synthskin splits open, revealing harsh metal lines beneath, ancient circuitry surprisingly well preserved.

"A machine…" The trio breathes in unison, eyes glued to the shining metal reflecting through the gash in what had so cleverly passed as flesh. Meeting eyes in a shared moment of surprise, several moments pass before Zev lifts a hand, pushing back the brittle hood, obscuring the rest of the figure.

Only to meet a human face.

Mouth and nose covered by a decaying silken wrap, only the shadows of human features can be seen through the delicate fabric by the wanderers.

That is not what sends them into further shocked silence though.

It was the creation's _eyes_.

Long dim from deactivation in ages past, the time-scoured orbs flash an icy blue at the young man's touch.

'_Greetings, traveler.'_

The voice echoes through Zev's mind, soft and languid in it's deliverance… Yet empty at the same time.

Stumbling back in surprise, he is met with curious glances from the other two, Rorsk now standing amidst the long grass.

"What is it, kid?" The gruff spacer inquires, quirking an eyebrow at the odd behavior.

"I…" Zev stammers, gesturing at the form, eyes dull once more as his touch leaves, "He… It-it _spoke _to me."

Rolling her eyes, Rhya takes her friend by the shoulder.

"It's long dead, Zev… Come on… Let's go."

Before she could drag him off though, the human wrenched himself free of the older woman's grasp.

"Rhya.. It _talked _to me!" He repeats firmly, back to the frozen figure as he gestures back at it, "Don't you want to know what it is? Why it's here?" Again, his fingertips brush the ancient and decaying figure, eyes sparking to life once more.

_'__I am the protector.'_

Still denying, the raven-haired spacer turns her back, motioning for him to follow.

"Zev.. I know you're a little _different_ than Rorsk and I, but that doesn't mean we have to listen to you when you sound like an idiot."

Frustrated at the strange pull towards the abandoned figure, and the draw of his friends, the young man lowers his eyes, running a hand through his short hair.

"Rhya… Rorsk… Please…" He begins, trying his best not to flat out beg, "We know so little about the galaxy before… Can't we… Can't we at least try to _learn _from this…" He pauses, searching for an apt description of the forlorn metal specter. "Person? Machine? I-I don't know…" Shaking his head, he looks up at his fellows, "But it obviously has a story to tell… Even if I'm the only one who will listen."

Laying a hand on the machine's shoulder, more fully than before, a frozen light bursts forth from the once-dim eyes, pooling into an image on the lush grass.

"Holy Sith…" The stocky Rorsk swears under his breath, eyes widening along with Rhya and Zev's as the hologram formed into a humanoid shape, slowly clarifying into that of a man. Dressed in what appeared to be a mixture of dark armor and anciently styled robes, not a single being could deny the uncanny similarity to the huddled figure now broadcasting the image.

Stunned, the youngest of the three could only remain frozen in his position next to the time-worn being, hand still lying on the stiff shoulder. Finally solidifying into a slightly flickering blue-tinged personage, the foot-tall specter raises his gaze to that of Zev's.

"_Long have I awaited the arrival of one such as yourself, youngling." _The hologram speaks in that same echoing voice, just as soft in the audible world as it was in his mind.

"W-Who are you?" Zev replies, his companions frozen in shock as their eyes fall upon the mysterious spectral figure conversing with their friend.

A soft, empty chuckle escapes the projection.

_"__I am the gatekeeper of the knowledge you seek… I hold the 'story' you wish to know…"_

"Are you a droid of some sort?" Rorsk interjects, coming up beside Zev and tapping the metal frame of the decaying humanoid creation, "What is this place? Why are you here?"

The hologram turns to face the gruff spacer.

"_I am not a droid, spacer… I reside within the holocron inside this metal frame," _The translucent figure pauses, as if making sure they understand his words before continuing, "_I am Echoes… For I am but an imprint of the man that came before. Left to teach and to guide where he could not."_

"So…" Rhya begins, curiosity burning silently behind her dark eyes, "You're a teacher? Who was this man who came before?"

Flickering slightly, a slight creasing of the silken covering about his face betrays a soft smile on the gatekeeper's lips.

_"__In answer to that, Milady… I have quite the story for you all."_


	2. Beginnings

_Looky here! An update!_

* * *

Chapter 2

"Now entering Cell Block 47A, Maximum Security."

The smooth artificial voice offers little in the way of assurance to the lone Republic officer as he continues deeper into the stronghold. Heart pounding, he can only mange a shaky smile of relief at the sight of further help in the form of Republic Guardsmen, each armed to the teeth in anticipation of fulfilling their next duty.

Transferring the Galaxy's most feared and dangerous being halfway across the galaxy.

"Commander Dallows," the lead figure tips his head respectfully, duty-chipped armor glinting in the sterile light of the hallway as the small squad falls into step around the slight form of the officer, "I take it you are the one carrying orders for His Lordship's removal?"

"That I am," the short officer nods before meeting the eyes of his taller counterpart and extending a datapad, Aurebesh characters shining brightly as they relay instructions for containment and transport of the prisoner.

"Kriff," the guardsman breathes, shaking his head and passing the pad back, "You're sure this is enough to contain him, Dallows? Six X-Wings, and an armored transport? The Dark Lord has destroyed more with just a _thought._"

Smiling sadly, the young officer offers a weak shrug in return, remembering all too well the atrocities committed by the one they had orders to protect.

"Do try to keep your mens' morale up, my friend. I have faith in Jedi Skywalker's abilities."

"Approaching Cell Block D6, Key Card required." The artificial and unseen voice cuts through the muttered conversation, blocking their path with several scarlet ray shields.

Nodding in response to the voice, the burly Captain drops a hand to one of the containers adorning his sturdy belt at his hip before removing the required key from it and waving the thin card over a sensor, granting them access to the truly dangerous levels of the Citadel.

"I still don't trust any of those weird monks..." He mutters, looking at the slight Dallows, ray shields vanishing with an almost ominous hiss.

_I'll never understand what he sees in Jedi..._

Mulling on the thought, the Captain almost fails to detect the drop in air temperature as a great black door comes into view at the end of the hallway. The small group freezes in their tracks, cold shivers running up their spines in a momentarily crippling wave of apprehension at the sight of burnished black panels. Looking almost to be edged with a malevolent frost amidst the heat of the Citadel, the mere sight of the door serves to unsettle all within range of its frozen aura.

"Good Hell..." A younger guardsman mutters, eyes widening at the sight before them. One could almost see the thought of '_What have I gotten myself into?' _Running across his features, clean shaven face shining with clinging moisture from the mixture of oppressive heat at his back, and deathly cold wafting from the chamber beyond. Around him, several others could be heard swallowing thickly in realization of the true caliber of their high priority assignment.

A moment of silence passes...

Two...

Three.

The air laden with unspoken tension, it is the officer that finally speaks up.

"Alright, Gentlemen... How about we get this done and over with? Captain, if you please... Open the door."

Dipping his head solemnly, the head guardsman approaches the console on the wall, and slowly, deliberately, he lays his palm on the scanner.

In the midst of the deathly silence, the sound of the great door's unsealing is akin to a thunderclap, storm continuing to churn as the panels slide open, revealing the frozen darkness beyond. Taking a tentative step forward, the small officer is almost immediately swallowed by the seemingly sentient shadows, an icy mist roiling out from the doorway in his wake. Before a single further move could be made by the accompanying squad, however; the portal slammed shut with finality… As if sealing the gates of Hell behind the damned.

* * *

Breathe in…

Breathe out…

In this world of frozen solitude… I am completely alone… Mind, body and soul as my breath rattles throughout the chamber.

Sheathed in thick leather and cybernetics, I am well protected from the cold that seeps to the very core of everything else within this place. It is in this state, they had thought to keep me dormant.

If only they knew how little I cared anymore…

Suddenly, a shaft of brilliant light slices through the darkness, and to my surprise… A slight figure enters, cold mists wafting about his ankles with the slamming of the great door behind him.

"Lord Vader," the man enunciates, tension underlying his tone as he comes to a stop before me. Eyes sliding up the thick durasteel sarcophagus that bound me from the 'chin' of my mask all the way to the floor, the officer swallows quietly, meeting my shaded gaze. Parting his lips with the slightest of sounds, he continues: "You have been chartered for transfer by order of Chief of State, Mon Mothma, for probationary hearings regarding your life sentence."

Regarding him silently, I dip my head in understanding. And almost… In _permission_, to the slight figure. Answering with a curt nod, brilliant light bathes him once again, a small contingent of guardsmen filing in seamlessly and united at his back.

"As of now, we are heading to the Galactic Core…" The Commander explains, now emboldened by the force behind him, "You would be best off not causing trouble."

"Why, Commander," I begin, tipping my head almost teasingly as the guards activate repulsorlifts in my container, causing it to rotate backwards, levitating a meter or so off the ground. "You believe me capable of anything, bound like this?"

_I wouldn't put it past him_. The thought ripples to my attention from the Commander as the contingent passes through the icy doorway, their unit surrounding the durasteel container on all sides in a seamless escort.

The passage from my cell into the central hallway is akin to the difference between night and day. Warm air washes over us all, contesting the freezing eminence from my pod the further we trek.

Having been isolated in that freezer for… For a year now, I suppose? I had almost forgotten what the world looked like without a layer of frost on my lenses. Ice turning to droplets, however, leaves me wishing I could shake my head freely… Lift a hand to wipe my vision clear.. _Something_ to rid myself of the condensation that muddles my restricted view of the world.

* * *

With crisp and echoing steps, the Republic Guardsmen are a force to be reckoned with. Powerful and immoveable, they are the image of perfection when one thinks of something to oppose and restrain someone so dangerous as the Dark Lord himself.

They were not beings to be messed with.

Howls and shrieks of derision and aggression from other prisoners on each successive level between the innermost chambers of the Citadel and the transfer bay fall silent at their approach. Feral snarls are reduced to fearful whispers at the sight of the cadre, face of Death itself visible in flashes between the armored bodies, and prison bars to the inmates.

Ever still… Ever neutral… The mask of Lord Vader has always sent one of many messages to those with the misfortune to rest their eyes upon its austere lines.

Death does not wait.

Death does not care.

Death will come when it sees fit, no matter your mortal pleas.

And it was with this message, the Dark Lord quelled their squabbles, silenced their screams and cries for mercy.

Beady eyes glisten from the shadows of the hallway cells, breaths taken sparingly as the most feared being in the known galaxy was escorted past each block on the way out of the Citadel.

Finally, the silent cells are left behind, and the landing pad greets them with heavy artillery and personnel at the ready, orange-suited pilots nestled in their X-Wings and anticipating orders from their leader.

One who just happens to be none other than the Hero of the Rebellion—now known as the New Republic— Luke Skywalker himself.

"Knight Skywalker," Dallows offers a slight not in greeting, offering a firm handshake, "Glad to have you on this mission."

Smiling in return, the young pilot returns the gesture in the floodlights of the landing pad.

"Glad to have been assigned, Commander."

And on that note of agreement, he falls into step beside the Republic officer, observing as the Republic Guardsmen guide the containment unit up a ramp and into the armored transport.

* * *

_Luke._

At the presence of my son, my heart flutters, sending me to crane my neck, and curse my ebon helm as its iconic shape prevents me from turning enough to meet his gaze.

'_Father.'_

The soft response to my timid call comes as a surprise, leading my mind back to the last time we had called to one another through the energies of the Force…

Bespin…

* * *

**'****Luke****_.' _**

**_'_****_Father.'_**

**_'_****_Son, come with me… It is your destiny.'_**

* * *

Oh, what a fool I'd been..

Sighing to myself in defeat, I shake my head beneath the mask, imperceptible to those on the outside.

_'__Father… I'm sorry it has to be like this.' _Luke's soft mental voice returns, his orange-clad figure only visible to me as the guards turn my container upon entering the shuttle.

Unbidden, two words rise as my reply, ramp raising to cut off our briefly shared look.

'_Don't be.'_

* * *

A deliberate thud marks the sealing of the ship, and with it… That of Darth Vader.

To the eyes of the Republic anyway.

Dropping his gaze, the young Jedi parts ways from the shuttle, wasting no time in clambering aboard his ship.

_If only you weren't so stubborn…_ Shaking his head a final time, the younger Skywalker straps himself into the cockpit, priming engines and preparing for takeoff.

"Rogue Squadron," the smooth voice of Commander Dallows crackles across the comm channel, "This is Black Falcon, we are lifting off now. Stay in formation and stay alert. We may be in Republic space, but considering our cargo… No chances must be taken."

"Copy that, Black Falcon," a chorus of voices responds to the instruction, each member of Rogue Squadron sealing hatches and following the heavy transport without so much as the slightest of pauses in movement. "Rogue Squadron at the ready."

Without show or flair, the convoy of seven rises from the atmosphere, engines shining like scarlet stars amidst the darkness of the broken and sulfurous planet behind them.

Now surrounded by the vacuum of space, Luke moves into his position covering the right flank of the transport. Sparing a glance at it, he considers the great black and silver bulk.

"**Sure spent a lot of time thinking of the name, I bet." **

Turning away from the utilitarian ship at a chirp of sound, the pilot couldn't help but smile at his snarky droid's comment.

"Come now, Artoo, it's not like they get paid for creativity."

**"****So?"**

Before the young man can respond in turn, Commander Dallows comes on the comm once again.

"Black Falcon to Rogue Squadron, we are preparing for hyperspace jump in five… Four… Three.." The Commander continues, counting down in preparation.

At the vocalizing of 'One' the seven ships vanish from sight, sucked into the cerulean swirl of hyperspace.

* * *

It is interesting to note how fast hyperspace travel can feel when bound in durasteel clamps, for it seemed as if we had been traveling mere minutes when things took a most… _Peculiar _turn.

"Captain, why have we stopped?" The gruff voice of a concerned guardsmen reaches my ears.

"I don't know," the leader shakes his head, slowly standing, "Another jump was not scheduled for another twenty minutes…"

Having reached out into the flow of the Force in curiosity, my eyes widen.

_Of all things…_

"Excuse me, Gentlemen," I rumble, reminding them of my existence, "But I do believe you may have a predicament awaiting you outside."


	3. Escapes

Chapter 3

Stars.

Ever sparkling, ever burning, they spattered the sky in a brilliant wash of light.

Unfortunately, even the brilliance of the heavens was lost upon those who sat in darkness.

Ebon hull sucking away any forthcoming light, the peculiar vessel appeared as nothing more than a shadow amongst the gloom between stars.

It was amongst this mystery, that a being of darkness stood.

Face concealed, and head covered, only the figure's shimmering amber eyes caused the utter blackness to give way as it clung to her shoulders. Coiling and purring about her, the shadows seemed almost... Alive.

"Milady, the gravity well is in place," a calm, obedient voice carried through the command center of the unmarked vessel, it's source a brawny human.

"Excellent, Drexen," came the living shadow's response, not bothering to face the dark-skinned technician. "Make sure all weapons and stealth modules are functioning. We will have quite the mess on our hands, come their arrival." Thick cords of scarred flesh stretching as the man flexed his hands on the vibroblade at his hip, he offered a curt nod.

"It will be done, Milady."

* * *

Just as predicted, a great armored vessel broke through the stars, hyperspace shattering around it without sound, and without sight.

In the sudden stillness, the occupants of said vessel looked about in confusion and discontent.

But not terror.

Not fear.

That was yet to come.

Like a great leviathan from the depths of space, the cause of the transport's misfortune rose to greet its prey.

* * *

All eyes snap to my steel sarcophagus at my words of warning. The Captain of the guard—ever so brave before his men— steps forward at last, metallic footstep breaking the almost rhythmic silence that hung between my rattling artificial breaths.

"What trickery do you speak, Dark Lord?" His words come strongly, yes, in the full enclosure…

But I can practically taste his underlying uncertainty.

"We merely had a slight hyperdrive malfunction, is all," another voice pipes up, as if to support the officer, "I'm sure we'll be back on schedule soon enough."

Of course they would think that, blind as the ship is with opaque blast shields sheathing all available viewports—from cockpit to cargo hold—from the cerulean swirl of hyperspace.

Despite myself, I find a wry and knowing smile passing, hidden on unseen lips as I watch them all, battle senses and the Force screaming at me the truth of their predicament.

_Oh, if only knew how far 'off schedule' things are about to become._

Returning my attention to the Captain, I tip my head slightly in bemusement.

"I believe young Knight Skywalker will have an explanation for you soon enough."

* * *

As was usual in his life, Luke Skywalker once again found himself ever grateful for the Force, mainly for two reasons in this particular case.

One, for keeping his head from slamming through the console at the sudden tearing from hyperspace mid-travel… And another for alerting him of incoming shots before they were even fired.

Green laser fire shears through the darkness. The deadly anti-fighter bolts slicing through where Luke's worn X-Wing had been not even a moment before.

But that was not what spurred Skywalker into action.

Not completely.

Rather… It was the _ship_.

Akin to the Basilisk war droids of old, the great ebon behemoth stretched forth gargantuan doonium arms, swiveling turrets and cannons spraying deadly green energy upon the small group of ships. Ever reaching towards its primary target…

"Rogues!" He screams into the comm channel between fighters, "Break formation and engage immediately! I don't know what that thing is, but we _have_ to keep it away from the transport, at all costs!"

A unified bark of understanding, and the six fighters splinter, returning emerald fire with the scarlet of their own.

To the beast of a ship, they are mere flies, shots merely scoring the surface in petty marks of wasted energy, or even glancing off the heavily armored appendages.

_Kriff_.

The singular curse echoed through the young pilot's mind as he ducked and weaved, dodging several more volleys of the deadly viridian energy.

**"****I told you this was a bad idea."**

Familiar text flits across the screen, Luke absorbing the information almost instinctively in the midst of battle.

"Can it, Artoo," He retorts, grimacing as a nearby explosion shakes his deft fighter, "Just patch me through to the transport, alright?"

**"****Fine."**

* * *

Not so much as a moment passes in the soundproofed hold before my son's strained tone crackles through to the cockpit-and by extent- the hold in which my guards and I are contained.

"Black Falcon, this is Red Five! I don't know if you've noticed, with your blast shields up, but we're under attack over here! Clear the viewports, and hightail it! There's a monstrosity flanking from behind, and I can tell you we're not enough to fight it off for long!"

"Copy that, Skywalker!" Dallows and the Captain sound off in unison, the trim officer sparing me not so much as a glance when he catches his partner's attention.

"Captain," he enunciates, "You and your men are to remain here at all costs, do you understand? We cannot risk the loss of our prisoner!"

A snap of unified nodding helmets satisfies the officer, and he sweeps once again into the cockpit, sealing himself with the pilots beyond the soundproof door.

Sighing internally, I resign myself to observing.

Not with my eyes, of course.

But with the _Force_.

Corporeal becomes ethereal.

Flesh into soul.

Everything melts away.

Even the stars themselves…

**_All things die, Anakin Skywalker…_**

* * *

The voice is haunting, yet delivered in a sweetness that cannot be denied, like a siren's call to my broken mind.

It was the voice of the dragon within my soul… That Darkness that I believed had so thoroughly consumed me…

Destroyed me.

And everything I loved…

Shaking my mind from the poisonous grasp, I open my spiritual eyes to the scene before me.

Ships and starfighters are wrought of glass, allowing me to view the entirety of the Force, in all its glittering strands, as souls streak like comets all about me, born about in invisible ships, light trailing after them from the sheer speed.

Flashes of scarlet and viridian energy join the sparkling auras of the Force, pilots' lives glimmering brightly, before vanishing with the shattering of their vitreous steeds within the darkened vacuum.

One life though, stands out like no other amongst the swirling of fighters.

_Luke_.

His presence is that of a newborn star, blinding to those that look upon him without precaution as he burns all traces of Darkness in his wake.

And I revel at one so pure.

So _strong_.

I can feel his very heartbeat, very _thoughts_ in the currents of energy. We, as father and son, are bound by unbreakable threads within this luminous plane.

A terrible screech reaches me, tearing along the threads as I witness a glancing blow crack the delicate crystalline ship containing the one life I value more than anything…

'_I'm coming for you, my Master.'_  
Another voice slithers through my mind on a tendril of acidic shadow, burning and begging at me, like a forlorn and venomous pet seeking approval and reward.

Still enraptured at the pain in my soul as the beacon that is my child falls dark, I pay no heed to the hissing voice…

And the glass world shatters.

* * *

"Captain! we can't hol-!" A pilot's screams are cut short by a bolt of massive green energy, causing all aboard to fall grim.

Another pilot down.

Out of the precious six that had been allotted to them, four were already fallen.

Remaining stony and silent, the Guardsmen remain situated around their equally lifeless captive, prepared to fight to the death to prevent his freedom.

Fate, however, did not see fit to give them a choice in the matter.

Without so much as a blip of warning, behemoth claws cause the transport to scream, its durasteel hide twisting and shearing open beneath the massive pressure inflicted by the ebon monstrosity of a ship.

It was then, the Captain of the Republic Guardsmen knew he was right.

Six X-Wings, even with a Jedi at the helm, were no match for what could—or _would_— be thrown their way on this mission.

Be that as it may, not even the greatest clairvoyant in the galaxy could have predicted _this_.

Screams fall to silence in one deft twist of the craft, obsidian beast expelling the transport's contents into the vacuum of space, humans and aliens alike freezing almost instantly in the pure and unforgiving cold.

* * *

It is here, drifting amongst the stars, that I come to, still sealed in my binding sarcophagus. It is only thanks to my sealed respirator and suit that I am still alive.

'_Master'_

The voice comes to me again, and I open my eyes to the form of what appears to be a dark angel, sweeping from the stars, silhouetted in a brilliant and ghostly light by the heavenly glory at her back.

'_I have found you, at last.'_  
Strangely, I find myself wordless at the contact, mind refusing to process the personage before me…

Until I meet her eyes.

Shining a lurid amber as they meet my lenses in a soft longing, it all falls into place.

'_Lumiya...' _I breathe mentally, knowing sound will not carry in the solitude of space.

'_Master,'_ She returns, her triangular head dipping down down in submissiveness. Slender hands retrieve what looks to be several magnetic disks from her hips, and she connects them soundlessly to the metal of my prison, eyes never leaving mine.

'_What are...'_ I attempt, before silence comes in the form of a delicate hand upon the grill of my mask.

_'__Hush, Master… We are freeing you.'_

A sharp tug on the cables connecting us to the obsidian beast via magnetic disks, and we are pulled forward, sailing silently through the visceral darkness. Older than time itself, the utter blackness encompasses us, destruction long quiet after the death of the transport. Yet… At the same time…

It is full of holes.

Starlight glitters off of floating debris, twisted and burned bodies as well, crystals of ice having encased them amidst the battle. Refracted light dances all about us, only catching in the form of brief flickers and flashes across the both of us—machine-people that we were—the light seems almost to be _attracted_ to us, reflecting off all our mechanical and shining pieces…

_Perhaps that is why the light never reaches our souls_.

Breaking myself from this deep contemplation, I look once again to what fate lies before me.

Great bay doors part before me, flooding the darkness with yet another shaft of artificial light, so harsh in comparison with the stars' almost ethereal presence as heavenly bodies.

And for once… I _welcome _it as it enfolds us, ship having swallowed us up at last.

Before I can even form any proper words, a lance of poison strikes my mind, and I see a starship… Nestled in the bay as we are drawn through and settled on the ground, magnetic clasps detaching loudly in the air-afforded space.

But it is no ordinary starship.

Crippled as it was, it would take an experienced eye to understand what they were seeing.

If I was anything though… It was experienced.

Eyes resting upon the spiderwebbed transparisteel of the cockpit, and shredded foils of a scuffed and battered Allian—ahem—_Republic_ fighter, a single instinctive word spears through my mind.

_Luke._

* * *

A/N: _Heya guys! I bring you an update (FINALLY) _

_Anyway, things got a little more action!_

_And just for any of you hardcore EU fans out there, just know that I have NEVER written our fine Dark Lady before (Heck, or read anything on her outside the Wookiepedia articles) so forgive me any OCness! _

_Hope you liked this installment, __as I am hoping to update more frequently!_

**_Reviews are ALWAYS loved! And I will take whatever you guys have to offer! I LOVE in-depths and critiques!_**

**_Thank you also, to all of my current reviewers, for showing interest! _**

_-Talicor_


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